


Under the Umbrella

by SalemAyuzawa



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: All you need is love, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, Love Story, M/M, Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, VictUuri, boyslove, lovestory, omprehension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 19:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20662139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalemAyuzawa/pseuds/SalemAyuzawa
Summary: Autumn brings the cold, the wind and brings lots of rain.Autumn brought me Victor and an umbrella called love.





	Under the Umbrella

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by ["Bajo el Paraguas"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20646875) by [NatSolano](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NatSolano/pseuds/NatSolano). 

> Hi!
> 
> Well, this is the first translation work I have ever done. The story "Bajo el paraguas" by author Natilyboo, is a beautiful one-shot written in Spanish, which the beautiful Nat has given me the honor of translating.
> 
> I hope you like it and, I also hope to see you soon in other jobs that we plan to upload on this platform. Don't miss them!
> 
> Sam.

It was about dusk that October day when, at a hurried pace, Yuuri Katsuki left the university.

His hair, dark as night, moved with the icy wind, which already weeks ago had begun to accompany the afternoons of the city.

He couldn’t get used to the cold, despite living in St. Petersburg for the past four years.

He tried  t o warm his hands, bringing them close to his mouth and blowing them hard, then placed them in his jacket pockets and kept walking.

His attention wasn’t at all on the street, but in the stormy cluster of his thoughts. He knew he had to study, and he knew he needed a time that, this weekend, he did not have. He couldn’t even if he wanted to because his weekends his secrets were to work.

And he was just heading, with his thin face consumed by fatigue, to that Cafe that allowed him to pay his expenses.

He had told Phichit to take notes for him. Maybe he could see them while waiting for another customer to arrive.

No matter how many more things he had to do his eyes were smaller and more sleep than usual. Even so, his body kept walking without stopping, as if it were in automatic pilot mode and could walk those paths by heart.

The decision to move to Russia in order to study hadn’t been easy. He had left his family and friends in Hasetsu for a brilliant opportunity in that Nordic country.

But he didn't complain, he was finishing his career and his teachers were offering him recommendations to find a job quickly. He knew he would make it, he just had to sacrifice a little more.

When he was about to reach the corner where he had to cross the street, he felt a couple of drops of water fall on his head. He watched the sky curiously. The thick gray clouds announced that he would have problems. He didn’t bring an umbrella, because in the morning, he had no time to see the weather report.

Now he would get soaked wet and catch a cold.

“Damn it!” he thought. Now he would have to hurry.

Raindrops began to fall more frequently and he shot off, putting his backpack over his head to cover the deluge that had begun to fall.

The few blocks away that previously seemed perfect, now seemed to be a curse.

He ran with all his soul until, finally, he could see a Cafe in front of him.

By the time he entered the Cafe, all the customers looked at him curiously. The trousers and shoes soaked, the jacket, although waterproof, could not resist another drop.

He arrived and sighed. His backpack was not suitable for the rain and, of course, all its content got soaked.

The notes for the entire semester were fuzzy and useless.

He wanted to cry, but the day was too sad to do so.

He counted up to ten in order to calm down. The notebook was left near the heater. Luckily some pages would be saved.

The moisture in his body was manifested through a sneeze of serious tone, which did not go unnoticed.

“Are you ok, Yuuri?”

The young black haired man didn’t have the strength or courage to explain his mood.

“I am, Emil,” he answered sparingly, “Simply, today isn’t one of my best days.”

Although that was true, it was no longer worth crying over spilled milk.

After all, he had a task to accomplish: to serve his clients as well as possible.

He wore his apron quickly and came out with his best smile to start his shift.

Yuuri was always aware of his clients. He attended them with patience and dedication. He had many acquaintances who always came for coffee. Each one with a different story to tell. Each one with a heart full of sadness, worry and fears. All desperate looking for a way to fill and heal them.

* * *

Another day full of profits in the stock exchange. Viktor Nikiforov loved the ups and downs of the market, loved selling and buying, losing and winning. He loved everything about his occupation. But he couldn’t help feeling empty at the end of the day.

As much as  he thought about everything he had lived, he had not been able to understand why his ex had left his house, one Wednesday, two years ago, without saying a word.

A note was the only thing he had left dedicated to him.

_ ‘I'm sure you will not know why I'm leaving. You don’t look around, you think the only thing that matters in your life is you. _

_ Good riddance, Viktor. _

_ Be happy with yourself.’ _

What had happened? Viktor thought that everything was fine between them. And maybe his ex was right. He might had not seen beyond his eyes. Perhaps some things might had happened and he hadn’t the insight to see them. And that bothered him. It bothered him because he considered himself as an intelligent and hard-working man. He considered himself as a such successful man.

Except in love.

Yuri Plisetsky had kept his word. Victor had never seen him again. It was as if he had disappeared from the map. And perhaps he should've known, from the first day they had exchanged glances. He was five years younger than him, a successful ballet dancer, a little capricious and very moody. But even so, he had loved him with madness. He was a very small and grumpy boy, but very passionate.

Now it wasn’t important to think about that. He had got over Yuri, but one thing had left him reflecting on his life. Did he really just think of himself? Was it the reason why he was still alone?

“Is everything ok, sir?”

A voice quickly abstracted him from his thoughts. He lifted his face and saw two deep, dark eyes, which looked at him from behind a pair of glasses stuck to the middle with duct tape.

“Yes, I'm fine, thank you,” he answered seriously. He already had his coffee and hated being asked if he wanted something more.

“I think you should try our speciality: strawberry cake.”

“I said I’m fine, thanks!”

He couldn’t help but look angrily at the boy who interrupted his pessimistic thoughts.

However, the young man surprised him with his response. With bright eyes he showed him the most beautiful and pure smile he had ever seen in his life.

“Sure, sir. I apologize for my boldness. I'm here to serve you.”

Yuuri sighed as he turned around. Another customer in a bad mood.

_ Well, you can not cheer everyone. _

That thought went through his head when Minako, the owner of the place, called him.

“Yuuri!”

The college student turned around at the same time as the silver-haired customer when both heard the name. One because he knew Minako were calling him, the other because the name had been in his thoughts all this time.

The stockbroker was surprised to notice that another boy could share the same name with his ex. That Yuuri was very different from the Yuri he had had for so long time in his heart.

Knowing that new information, something stirred inside him. Without being able to avoid it, he began to observe the young man who, a few minutes before, had offered him a dessert.

Yuuri seemed  to  be a sweet and kind young man. He had never seen a person who gave so many sincere smiles to so many people.

After attending the call of his boss, Yuuri returned to his normal activity.

The young man stayed next to an old woman listening to what had happened to her during the day, he attended to a lady with a screaming child, who treated him badly and then took water for the umpteenth time to a lady sitting at the most forgotten table of the local.

Viktor was sure that this lady didn’t have any money to buy something. She was probably a beggar who had come in to protect herself from the rain. And Yuuri didn’t reject her,, he didn’t look at her badly, on the contrary, he treated her as if she were such a special client.

The stockbroker felt bad about treating him so nasty an hour ago. His furtive gaze followed that young man who he couldn’t stop watching. He felt he owed him an apology, perhaps some sincere words, but he didn’t know him and was ashamed of the idea of apologizing. Still he had found a way to approach him.

He called him and Yuuri came near him, showing him the same tender smile as before.

“Tell me, sir. What can I offer you?”

“You recommended me previously the strawberry cake. Can you bring me a portion, please?”

“Of course, sir. It’d be a pleasure!”

It didn’t take long for the order to appear. During the little time they interacted, Viktor felt he was the only customer in the store. Yuuri, with his kind treatment, made him feel that way.

“Thanks, Yuuri!” Viktor told him suddendly. The young man was surprised to see that the commensal knew his name and could not help reddening.

“There is nothing to thanks, sir. I’m here to serve you.”

While tasting the dessert, which really was delicious, he followed Yuuri with his gaze and, without being able to help it, with his heart.

How can a simple barista of a forgotten coffee in the middle of St. Petersburg work with such dedication and love? How could a simple kid knows the secret of happiness? Because that seemed like he knew, he showed it in his inability to stop smiling.

The young silver haired man couldn’t avoid looking at the hour when he noticed that the lights were turning on in the place. It was getting dark early at that time of the year and he had to go back to accompany his lovely pet Makkachin. She would not forgive him for the lack of food.

He felt sorry to know that he would have to return home and stop looking at Yuuri. For some reason he didn't want to stop doing it, he didn't want to take his eyes off him.

He called again, to ask for the bill. Yuuri, very kindly gave it to him. Viktor, in repair of his bad treatment hours ago, couldn’t help giving him a very good tip, one far exceeded the total of the small account, actually.

“But, sir, I can’t accept this. It’s just too much!”

“Don’t worry, Yuuri. Accept it. Let me somehow give back your kind attention. And don't call me ‘sir’. I’m Viktor, I always come to the Cafe.”

Yuuri knew it. He knew that man with platinum hair was a regular customer of the Cafe. He also knew that he was always unwilling and reluctant to speak with nobody, not even with the waiters. He knew it because none of his fellows wanted to attend him every time he came.

That was the reason why, he was pleasantly surprised to show him an inedited smile. A smile that, in Yuuri's eyes, was very special.

Before he retired, Yuuri looked at the generous tip and felt that he should express how he felt. He was really grateful for the attention.

“Thanks, Viktor.” He thanked him from the heart, with another one of those smiles wich squeezed the heart of that client.

Viktor stood, feeling a very strong heat in his heart and returned home, armed with an umbrella. The rain seemed endless.

* * *

Beside the door, his pet Makkachin barked excitedly, stood on two legs, stuck out his tongue and licked his hands.

“It’s raining outside, Makka. Is gonna be a short walk today.”

He thought about going around the block, but something made him doubt. He pushed forward, more and more, with Makkachin's leash on his right hand and his umbrella on his left.

Almost without realizing it, he stopped outside the Cafe where an hour earlier he had been.

Yuuri continued serving customers with that smile that seemed tireless. Outside the premises, Viktor could appreciate him much more. He was able to appreciate the details that Yuuri had with each one of his clients, the time that he dedicated to them and how attentive he looked at them when they spoke to him. It was as if Yuuri knew exactly what the others needed from him.

Later, the black haired boy was still standing there and Victor could see him a moment without customers, in which Yuuri opened a backpack in the bottom and took out a folded notebook, probably wet. He reviewed it page by page carefully and, for the first time, Viktor could see some tears falling down his cheeks.

Viktor felt an intruder at that moment. He was invading an intimate moment of that barista, a moment that belonged only to that beautiful boy with hair as black and disordered as the feathers of a crow.

Why did a wet notebook make him so sad? Wich part of his life would be hidden there? Any important letter? Maybe it was his diary? Maybe he was an aspiring writer and had dipped what he thought was his masterpiece?

Although he didn’t know him, it hurt to see him like that. It didn’t seem natural to see Yuuri sad. He had spent so many hours giving smiles everywhere that his troubled face seemed abnormal.

Ten minutes later, Viktor couldn’t know how this story would continue, because two people entered the Cafe.

Yuuri wiped his tears with his hands and, with a wonderful new smile, welcomed the diners.

Wonderful, unique and captivating. Those were the words that ran through Viktor's mind, seeing the way as quickly as Yuuri put aside his pain to attend to his customers with generosity.

Viktor would have continued to enjoy Yuuri's multiple smiles from his space on the street, but Makkachin began to howl.

“Wait a minute, Makka.”

But he couldn’t blame her. Poor Makkachin, was soaking wet, trembling from the cold in the rain. The size of his body had made it impossible for him to hide completely under the umbrella.

The beautiful speck of brown hair howled tremulously and Viktor bent down to caress her.

“I’m sorry. It was selfish to have you here under the rain. Let's go home,  sweetie .”

Before starting off, he turned to look at Yuuri again and thought about that wet notebook. Maybe it wouldn’t make much difference for the boy, maybe it was not going to be necessary, but Viktor didn’t want to imagine him soaked in the street, without any protection.

He went to the kiosk on the corner and bought a newspaper. Then he asked the seller for a pen and a sheet of paper and wrote:

_ ‘For: Yuuri.  _

_ Use me and your notebook won’t get wetter anymore’ _

He returned quickly to the place and, taking advantage of a moment in which Yuuri had gone for trays to the kitchen; apace, Viktor entered the premises and left the umbrella near to the counter, closed and with the sheet around.

Makkachin had been waiting at the entrance and Viktor, in a hurry, covered his head with his own raincoat and started running desperately home.

He knew he was going to arrive home soaked but it did not matter. The notebook was going to arrive dry at home.

* * *

There were two things in Yuuri’s life without exception in the next and the following weeks: an umbrella and Viktor Nikiforov.

The umbrella he had found with his name had perplexed him. Who had seen him with the wet notebook? How did he know it was so important to him?

The gesture had seemed so beautiful that the umbrella had become his amulet. Every day of Autumn he would take it home when it rained and the next day he would return it to the Cafe, hoping that, perhaps, the owner would pick him up. He was dying to meet him because it was like that, he needed to thank him for the gesture. But the owner never arrived. Instead, the only person who arrived every day, was Viktor.

He didn’t know why but every day that handsome man came to have a drink and chat with him.

Viktor asked for coffee, tea, water, oatmeal cookies, strawberry tarts and everything he could ask for and that allowed him to prolong his stay at the premises.

Every time when Yuuri couldn't stay because he had so many clients, Viktor went out of his way watching him. The young man with silver hair couldn’t help but be admired by the smiles that Yuuri granted to those who passed through the premises. Viktor felt he was close, very close to knowing the secret of Yuuri's joy. 

Joy despite the sorrows.

Day after day Viktor knew Yuuri the more. He listened to his stories as a child in Japan, about his studies at the university, about his family in Hasetsu, who made strenuous efforts to pay for his studies and the quartet with which he sang at the university.

Yuuri was like a book, such an exciting book to read and Viktor wanted to read again and again the pages that contained his life.

Every day Yuuri showed him a new look of him and that fascinated him.

Yuuri did have a reason to smile at others as much as he did.

He accepted his life as it was, lived and enjoyed it. He always gave a smile to others because, as he had once said, "We must give our best because everything in this life is a gift: flowers, friendship, health, love. There’s always a reason to smile."

Yuuri, meanwhile, discovered that Viktor wanted but didn’t know how to donate to others. He had a lot of love inside and Yuuri noticed it when Viktor introduced him to his beautiful Makkachin, who conquered his heart as soon as he met her. But that love was lost a little coming out of the four walls of his house. The reason was Viktor was afraid, frightened of being open to others. The last time he had opened to someone, it was to his ex and he only told him everything bad he had but never what he did well. That was why he kept keeping more and more of himself and shutting himself up, until he put on a breastplate, a breastplate of hardness and bad mood, because it was easier to have a reason to deny than to smile.

However, Yuuri taught him the good things he had inside his heart, good things that Viktor had never noticed he had. Viktor was generous to others when no one saw him. He was interested in homeless people he encountered and often brought them water, food and shelter.

Viktor was also empathic and funny. He never bothered when Yuuri left him in the middle of a conversation when a client arrived. When he returned he always had a phrase or a little joke that made him smile and never stopped looking at him with that flirtatious look of his. A look that intoxicated Yuuri and made him believe, after all, in love. 

That’s right, Viktor had so many good things he ignored he had and, thanks to Yuuri, he discovered and could begin to accept them.

After all, the other Yuri had been wrong: Viktor actually did see what was going on around him, he could give to others, but the dancer had told him otherwise so many times until Viktor believed it, and had encapsulated himself not to open to no one else. Happily that changed when a coffee waiter, also called Yuuri, showed him that, after all, he did know how to love.

* * *

By the fall of next year, the lives of Yuuri and Viktor had already merged into one.

They couldn’t help it because they were like two attractive opposite poles, two forces that together could overcome everything.

Viktor conquered Yuuri with his details, with his sense of humor and his turquoise eyes, and Yuuri conquered his beloved Viktor with his smiles, always unique, none equal to the others.

Time passed, their talks became long and the desire to say goodbye with a big hug increased rapidly. Soon there was no day when they were not expected and, if they couldn’t see each other, they also missed each other.

One day, after living the Café ending Yuuri's shift, they gave their first kiss. Yuuri was shaking from the cold autumn that already gave way to winter and Viktor was a bundle of nerves. It was a tender kiss, full of feelings.

And so, little by little, time went by in their lives and so their love grew.

When the had a problem, they overcame it. When there was any doubt, they talked. Nothing was perfect, but, in its own way, everything was fine.

A year after their first kiss they returned to that Café to celebrate their love. At that time, Yuuri worked in a very big company and Viktor was still working on the stock market.

They worked hard but loved each other a little bit more. Maybe there was a small amount of time to go out to dinner, but there was always time to look at each other, to hold hands and talk.

That day in the Café should not be the exception either. Minako had served them on the house a delicious coffee and one of those strawberry cakes that Viktor asked so fervently when he stayed to watch Yuuri work.

They talked in the most lively atmosphere, holding hands and talking and looking at each other with deep devotion, when, suddenly, an urgent call stopped the moment between them. There was a critical situation in Viktor's office and he required to go immediately.

Yuuri couldn’t hide his disagreement. It wasn't fair to him, since that was his night, the only night he wanted to have his boyfriend for him. For him and nobody else.

Viktor tried to fill him with kisses and apologies, but Yuuri didn't want to give in to his details. Just that night was more special than the others. He told him to leave and do what he had to do but he didn't want to kiss him goodbye. Simply, because he didn't want to lose. Not that night. Not in that Café.

Viktor got up without saying more and opened his umbrella when leaving the premises. Perhaps after returning to the house he could captivate Yuuri and make him think.

Then, Minako approached him and wearing a big smile she said:

“I think it's beautiful that you two are still together. Who would say that an umbrella could be the cause of love between you two?”

Yuuri looked at her perplexed. Umbrella? What umbrella was she talking about?

“The umbrella, Yuuri, the one someone left you one day. That umbrella that was your amulet, remember? Well, he left you that umbrella.”

How could he have forgotten? That umbrella had been his salvation. Knowing that there was someone worried about him, had moved him inwardly to unsuspected levels. He had learned at home that one should always think of others, but not that others could think of him. Without realizing it, that had been Viktor's first show of affection for him and had gone completely unnoticed before his eyes. How had he not reached that conclusion by himself? It was not that the owner of the umbrella had never appeared, but that he had never left his side again instead.

Maybe it had been careless, maybe his mind had wanted to say "goodbye" memories, but what caused that mental image of that umbrella was that Yuuri ran to catch up. To his Viktor, to the owner of the umbrella and his heart.

He didn’t know which route he had taken, but he assumed that he had gone in the direction of the center. With his hand on his head, to prevent the rain from soaking his face, he ran.

His lungs struggled to stay open, his heart was beating desperate and his legs were weak because of the speed.

A couple of blocks below he could see him in the distance. That tall, elegant and handsome man who drove him crazy with just one look. There he was, feeling lonely and sad about what had happened minutes ago in that Café.

Yuuri accelerated the march and, taking advantage of the cars absense in the street called him.

“Viktor!”

The man turned immediately, unable to believe it was Yuuri who called him from afar.

“Yuuri, what happened? Are you okay?”

The worried tone of Viktor’s voice made Yuuri feel even more guilty.

When he had him close, he smiled at him, with another one of those unique smiles that melted his beloved's heart.

Viktor received him affectionately in his arms and Yuuri just wanted to stay there with him, under the umbrella, where everything seemed to stop for them. Where they were completely happy.

“I never thanked you,” Yuuri’s eyes looked like delicious honey-dipped almonds.

“Thanks? Thanks for what?”

Yuuri put his hands against his cheeks and replied.

“For loving me and for letting my notebook come dry home. For letting me go under the umbrella…”

Viktor’s heart squeezed. He looked at those lips that had been his for a long time and kissed them. He kissed them tenderly, as if he was afraid to break them by friction.

That kiss left them more in love than before. They looked at each other as if they were the only ones in the middle of the world and didn't need more than a smile to know that it would always be like that among them. Regardless of jobs, regardless of routines and regardless of problems, because they would always have them and always walk together, under an umbrella called love.

** _The end_ **

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again!
> 
> Hope you enjoy this history! please let me know if it is understandable or if there is any detail that needs to be corrected.
> 
> I hope also, I can see you soon in the other work we are developing.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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